


Start Again

by Bayyvon



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 15:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10221215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon
Summary: Tig loved him too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this could be read as Gen or slash so do with that what you will  
> Also um sorry for any formatting errors my phone is refusing to let me edit them

Tig grunts as he rolls over, plucking his cell phone from the bedside table to stop its yelling. “Hulo?”    
“Tig?” It’s Juice. He sounds…off, though Tig can’t quite place why.  

“Who else?” The dark headed man scoffs as he sits up, yawning.  

“Can you… uh.” A pause, a sniffle, a strangled sob. “Can you come get me?”  

“Yeah,” Tig’s wide awake now. “Where are you? What happened?”    
“Few miles outside Charming. The gas station that sells cheap cigarettes. I laid down my bike. Down a hill. Into a tree.”  
“Jesus Christ, Juice.” Tig keeps his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear as he pulls on his pants. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, the lil Chinese lady’s tryna clean me up. I might’ve cut my head. Not sure.”  

“Let her. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Tig sighs as he grabs his keys.  

*  

“It’s alright, I have someone on their way.” Juice tries to pull away from the woman with the gauze and antiseptic.    
The woman wordlessly forces him to sit back down in the stool.  
“Alright! Alright!” Juice complies, letting the woman pap his wound.  

“Fuckin’ Christ, Juice.” Tig shakes his head as he rounds the counter. “That thing’s as big as my damn thumb!”  

Juice winces as the little cashier woman rubs antibacterial gel on him, taping a large square of gauze to the cut.  

“Thank you, for helping my idiot friend.” Tig nods at the woman, grabbing Juice by the bicep.  

“No problem.” She grins, waving at them as they exit.    
“What the hell is going on?” Tig questions fiercely as he wrestles Juice into his tiny little car.  
“ _She’s_ at the house. We got into an argument about it. I left-”  

“And you wrecked because you were upset. Why did you even ride? You could’ve called me.”  

“I didn’t wanna bother you.” Juice’s voice has softened, and he’s avoiding Tig’s eyes.    
“Hey.” Tig forces Juice to look at him. “I worry about you, you know that right?”  
“Yeah. I know.” Juice looks down. He can’t help it. Those blue eyes of Tig’s see everything and miss nothing and it scares him a little.  

“You need somethin’, you call. Got it? Don’t care what time it is, or where I’m at.”  

“Tig,-”  

“Na nanana no.”  

“But,-”  

“No.”  

Tig watches Juice give in, no matter how much he wants to fight him. He’s too drained and wounded to argue.    
“I love you, you know that, don'tcha?”  
“I love you too, Tiggy.”  

Now, Tig decides, its time to take Juice home. This had become routine over the past few weeks. Juice would call him, cryin’ over Chibbie and Fi and Tig’d come get him and remind Juice that he loved him too.  

**  

“It.. I mean….” Juice sighs into Tig’s lap. “If it wasn’t…I…I don’t know, Tiggy.”  

“I know, Juicy.” Tig’s fingers play along the younger man’s scalp. “I know.”    
Though he’d never admit it, the older man hated seeing Juice torn up about whatever happened between himself and Chibs. He didn’t like it. Wanted to rip the Scot a new one for doin’ this to the kid. You can’t have your cake and eat it too, right? He didn’t think Chibs understood that particular concept in this kind of situation. He’d dedicated years, time, sweat and blood to Juice, but he and Fiona were still -legally- married. You can’t just do this kind of back asswards shit to someone like Juice, who not only had a jealous streak and a mean one, but trust issues the size of New York state. Tig adored Juice, and wanted to make him happy, but damn him to hell if he didn’t wanna tear Chibs the hell apart over it all.  
Tig plucks Juice’s crushed cigarette pack from his kutte and adjusts the least bent one, fishing his lighter from his pocket and lighting up. The dark haired man takes a hard drag, trying to force the negative emotions radiating in his chest to come out with the smoke. It doesn’t work, granted, it never really did. Juice begins to shake beneath and Tig’s hand, and the older Son figures it’s better to let him talk when he was ready. Which, apparently, was right now.

“I don’t get it, Tiggy, I don’t- I mean, he, he- and then her and… am I not enough? Is that it? I can’t be, if he keeps, y'know? I… Never have been, I guess.”

“Juice, no, c'mon.”

“Then _what_ _is_ _it_ , Tig?”  
“Goddamn it, Juice, I don’t know! Okay? I don’t know!” Tig huffs, and tries again. “What I do know, Juice… is that the bullshit he puts you through isn’t fucking worth this. It’s not worth you cryin’ and hurtin’ and- and- and fuckin’ destroying yourself!”  
“I’m not-”  
“Yes you are, Juice! You coulda died tonight– you coulda killed someone else! Is Chibs really worth all this bullfuck? ‘Cause I don’t fuckin’ think so. I’m sicka seein’ you like this, man! I love you, Juice, and that fuckin’ bastard wouldn’t know love if it bit him in the ass! But you do! You have so much love, Juice. And I can’t stand to see you waste it on someone who doesn’t fuckin’ care! You do every goddamn thing for him, and he doesn’t do jack squat but make you all flustered and upset! It’s bullshit Juice and you know it!”  
Juice is crying harder now, nodding along with Tig, but Tig knows better. Tomorrow Juice would wake up alone in Tig’s empty bed full of regret and would go crawling right back while Tig slept on the couch. And it would start again.  



End file.
